Wednesday, December 17, 2014

From time to time, I like to look back at some of the shrubs I talked about in the early days of the blog to see how they've held up over the past few years, and in many cases to supply a recipe I may have withheld at the time.

For those of you who have been with me since the beginning, you might remember the apple shrub called 3 Faces of Eve, so named because of my use of three different varietals of apples of varying sweetness and tartness to give a richer, deeper apple profile than if I had simply just used one varietal on its own.

Rinse apples and chop into small segments.If using blender, put blender container on scale and use tare function to zero out the reading. Add apple pieces first, until desired weight is reached. Tare again, adding appropriate amount of brown sugar to the container. Blend until apple/sugar mixture is well blended. Pour into clean, resealable jar or non-reactive container and place in fridge for 2-5.

If not using a blender, put non-reactive container on scale and use tare function to zero out the reading. Pour or spoon apples into container until desired weight is reached. Use tare function again.

Pour or spoon brown sugar into container until desired amount is reached. Using muddler, mash sugar into fruit until a thick, syrupy mixture forms. Seal container and rest mixture in refrigerator for 2-5 hours.

After Either Mash step: Remove container from refrigerator and unseal. Place on scale, once again using tare function. Add appropriate amount of white wine and cider vinegar to container. Reseal, and place back into refrigerator. Rest jar one week.

After one week, remove container from refrigerator. Arrange strainers in levels of increasing fineness over measuring cup. Strain liquid through strainers, pressing on pulp to express any trapped shrub.

Place funnel in bottle, and situate tea strainer in funnel opening. Pour strained shrub through tea strainer into bottle, and seal bottle.

Refrigerated shrub should last from six months to one year.

Now, if you're wondering why I would be revisiting this particular shrub now, it's because the amazing creative juggernaut known as Mixology Monday has descended once more, and like the tasty orbs dropped on Newton's noggin, this month brings the theme of Apple.

After bottling this batch of 3 Faces of Eve, I was excited, because what could possibly be friendlier than the flavor of apple?

Well, no one sent this shrub the memo, apparently, because its lack of playing nice with almost anything should earn it a spot on VH-1's 2015 Divas Live! concert, if that's still a thing.

Bourbon. Scotch. Rye. Gin. Nope.

In all honesty, I am not sure what in the shrub seemed to be hanging up on nearly every single spirit I put with it, but I couldn't get these ingredients together for anything. I had one last untapped option and that was Rum.

My thinking was that if I had a rum that had some vanilla notes, I could mix that with apple, and perhaps finally get some magic happening. That said, I was afraid of veering too closely into territory I already mined with the Les Brers which combined rum, allspice dram, and peach shrub, so this had to be a little different.

Then it occurred to me: dammit, Kern, it's winter! Maybe folks would like a little something warm for a change. Perhaps with the addition of some boiling water, I could land somewhere between a toddy and a hot cider kind of situation. I originally thought Zaya rum would be a good choice for this. And it is, but I came to realization that my last name isn't Rockefeller or Kennedy and this was going to be an expensive nightcap if anyone else wanted to recreate the drink at home.

Since I had already decided to go in a more tropical direction with the addition of some Velvet Falernum, my thoughts went to my old favorite, the Corn n' Oil. I have always enjoyed the Corn n' Oil when prepared with the rich, molasses-y taste of Cruzan Black Strap rum, so I gave that a shot and threw in several dashes of Angostura bitters to bolster the warm spice and clove notes in there and cut the sweetness a touch. If I had one, I might have given a little squeeze of lime, just for some brightness, but I'll leave that decision to you.

Overall, it tasted like a rich, almost caramelized apple cider, with enough booze for warmth, but not so much that you'll pass out under the tree. It's like a cardigan for your insides!

Dr. Luther

As for the name, Dr. Luther was the doctor in the film The 3 Faces of Eve who was apparently instrumental in helping Eve discover and deal with her different personalities. As toddies seems to have some medicinal value, I wouldn't hesitate to prescribe myself one of these before going to sleep on a cold winter's night.

Thanks to our illustrious leader in this month's tasty exercise, Mr. Fred Yarm not only for hosting the month, but for helping to keep the good ship MxMo afloat.

Dr. Luther

3 oz 3 Faces of Eve(Apple shrub)

1 oz Cruzan Black Strap Rum

1 tsp-.25 oz Velvet Falernum(to taste)

2-3 dashes Angostura bitters

4 oz boiling waterSqueeze of lime wedge(optional)

Heat water to boiling.

In the meantime, pre-warm heavy mug by filling with hot water. When boiling water is ready, dump pre-warming water from mug.

Monday, November 17, 2014

I love making cocktails with shrubs, and I really like the idea of spiking the MxMo
punchbowl with my own specialized corner of the cocktail universe when I
can, and some months the topics lend themselves more the sharp world of
shrubs than other.

It was for this very reason, that I was particularly excited to see that this month's topic was hosted by the illustrious Dinah Sanders at Bibulo.us, author of The Art of The Shim which fills what was once an a glaring low-octane hole in the world of leisurely imbibing. I am the type of guy who favors fellowship over falling down any day of the week, and since shrubs are also a very flavorful way to lengthen and augment some boozier elements without going too wild, this challenge seemed like it was right in my wheelhouse.

Coincidentally, I also happened to be finishing up some new shrubs that I wanted to work with for cocktails anyway, and since Thanksgiving is upon us, I thought it might be nice to have a cocktail that looked and tasted as though it were designed for Thanksgiving gatherings.

Now, making a drink to pacify a house full of various and disparate personalities is a delicate balance under even the most unrestricted circumstances, of course; the cocktail has to be flavorful, but cannot be so sodden with heavy liquor that your Uncle Ted and Second Cousin Ralph are going to engage in a Greco-Roman free-for-all before the salad course, or when Aunt Mimi guzzles five of them in a row, she will not spend the rest of dinner half in the bag, telling you and anyone in earshot all about her glory days as a burlesque dancer in candid detail, or even worse, demonstrating said glory days before drowsily dropping face first in her apple pie.

And this, friends, is where the shim comes to the rescue. Since a shim is a cocktail limited to only a half an ounce of 80 proof(or above) liquor, one can confidently shield themselves with the proverbial fig leaf of liquid gregariousness all night while severely limiting their chances of acting a like a complete ass. Unless of course, they do that sober, in which case my drink can't help them, but they might want to enjoy a long, tall glass of introspection instead.

The Owl Creek and Its Non-Shrub Components

To keep things from getting too rowdy, I opted to use the bittered aperitif wine Cocchi Americano as the base, with a hefty dose of cranberry shrub, as well as a judicious but noticeable amount of amontillado sherry, and a dash of Angostura bitters. To fortify all that wine and shrub, I chose Beefeater gin to use as my allotted half ounce of full on base spirit . This guy clocks in at a slightly heftier 94 proof, but, come on, man! It's still a party!

My initial reaction was the sparkling wine would really highlight the celebratory nature of the drink, but I opted for sparkling water instead, which fulfilled the dual purpose of adding some effervescent whimsy to the proceedings, but without any extra alcohol, and in fact, dilutes the drink even further without a loss of taste or excitement.

The combined result is quite tasty: the Cocchi acts as both a base and an anchor with its very mild bitter finish which blends seamlessly with the bottom notes of both the cranberry shrub and the Angostura bitters. The Angostura also adds a slightly woody and spicy note that confidently riffs off of the nutty qualities of the amontillado and the cranberry shrub, bring the profile full circle, while the scant amount of soda water just loosens it up ever so much, giving the drink a spry lift and mellowing out the overall viscosity of the rest of the ingredients. If I missed one trick here, I would say it could have used an orange twist, which I didn't have lying around as I finally got this drink into focus.

Barring that, I would say that this is a festive, ruby colored kick in the trousers; just assertive enough to goose you a touch, but not enough to knock you onto the rumpus room floor. It's bittersweet, effervescent, and a touch nutty.

So this Thanksgiving, why not serve a tasty drink that practically describes your family gathering...to your family?!(How meta!)

Just keep an eye on Aunt Mimi, I think I just saw her finish her fourth one...

Put blender carafe or separate bowl on the
scale and use the tare function. In your blender carafe or a separate
bowl, weigh cranberries on scale and use tare function to zero out
the reading. Add sugar until you reach desired weight of sugar into
container until desired
weight is reached. Use tare function again.

In blender or food processor, blend sugar and cranberries until a thick, syrupy
mixture forms. Pour mixture into non-reactive container and rest mixture in refrigerator for 2-5
hours.

Remove
container from refrigerator and unseal. Place on scale, once again
using tare function. Add white wine vinegar to container. Reseal, and
place back into refrigerator. Rest jar one week.

After one week, remove container from refrigerator. Arrange strainers in
levels of increasing fineness over measuring cup. Strain liquid through
strainers, pressing on pulp to express any trapped shrub.

Place
funnel in bottle, and situate tea strainer in funnel opening. Pour
strained shrub through tea strainer into bottle, and seal bottle.

Refrigerated shrub should last from six months to one year.

*Additional notes: The name of this cocktail is tangentially related to the name I gave the cranberry shrub in the cocktail, as it is the name of a short story called An Occurrence At Owl Creek Bridge written by early American author, Ambrose Bierce.

Thanks again to MxMo and Dinah for hosting this month and writing such a great book!

Autumn has a lot going for it in my opinion: lack of sweating, ensconcing oneself in blankets, and several months of wearing sweaters are all top flight reasons to give this season top billing, but it also contains my absolute favorite holiday: Thanksgiving.

While Thanksgiving has given us some rather iffy and overly literal attempts at translating the delightful flavors of the season into the beverage world(I'm looking at you Turkey and stuffing sodas!), there are other flavors of the fall season that are clearly much better suited to enchant the masses with slightly less on the nose elements that are still quite identifiable to this time of the year.

While the usual autumnal suspects such as apple, pumpkin, sweet potato, and pear are living it up in an assortment of pies and tarts, the steadfast cranberry only sees a limited amount of action, and as a side dish no less.

Essentially, they have been the Rodney Dangerfield of the season's bounty, only recently gaining a moderately larger amount of respect by getting to dress up more like a sexy artisan relish as opposed to hitting the table after being thoughtlessly dumped in a frumpy bowl, still wearing the shape of the aluminum can from whence it came. As I say, no respect.

Cranberries deserve better, dammit. They are imbued with rich color, a pleasing, yet acerbic tartness, and a ever so slightly vegetal depth that reminds you that they are not the factory farmed wallflowers or the artificially enhanced losers everyone assumes that them to be.

With such delightful qualities, they are perfect for shrub, especially at this time of the year when the cranberry harvest is in full swing and staggeringly fresh offerings can be had from the right regions. In most cases, you can make pretty decent shrub even if the fruit is not organic or local, but please let me point out to you that when making cranberry shrub that this is a very distinct exception.

Using cranberry and white wine vinegar as the base, I have made two different shrubs, one with brown sugar and mulling spices, and the other simply with white sugar.

Let's compare the two:

Ambrose

Named for early American author Ambrose Bierce aka "Bitter Bierce," this is a fairly stripped down shrub made with white wine vinegar, white sugar, and fresh cranberries.

Put blender carafe or separate bowl on the scale and use the tare function. In your blender carafe or a separate bowl, weigh cranberries on scale and use tare function to zero out
the reading. Add sugar until you reach desired weight of sugar into container until desired
weight is reached. Use tare function again.

In blender or food processor, blend sugar and cranberries until a thick, syrupy
mixture forms. Pour mixture into non-reactive container and rest mixture in refrigerator for 2-5
hours.

Remove
container from refrigerator and unseal. Place on scale, once again
using tare function.

Add white wine vinegar to container. Reseal, and
place back into refrigerator. Rest jar one week.

After one week, remove container from refrigerator. Arrange strainers in
levels of increasing fineness over measuring cup. Strain liquid through
strainers, pressing on pulp to express any trapped shrub.

Place
funnel in bottle, and situate tea strainer in funnel opening. Pour
strained shrub through tea strainer into bottle, and seal bottle.

Refrigerated shrub should last from six months to one year.Enjoy.

The use of white sugar lends a more neutral sweetness that balances both the natural tartness of the cranberry as well as the acidic bite of the vinegar without too much outside coloration of the flavor. If you would like your cranberry shrub mildly tart, while offering the most undiluted, pure cranberry flavor, Ambrose is your man.

Fox In The Snow

As previously stated, Fox In The Snow shares much of its DNA with its sibling, but swaps in the slightly earthy, more molasses-y brown sugar for white, and adds mulling spices.

Put blender carafe or separate bowl on the scale and use the tare function. In your blender carafe or a separate bowl, weigh cranberries on scale and use tare function to zero out
the reading.

Add sugar until you reach desired weight of sugar into container until desired
weight is reached. Use tare function again.

In blender or food processor, blend sugar and cranberries until a thick, syrupy
mixture forms. Pour mixture into non-reactive container and rest mixture in refrigerator for 2-5
hours.

Remove
container from refrigerator and unseal. Place on scale, once again
using tare function. Add white wine vinegar to container. Reseal, and
place back into refrigerator. Rest jar one week.

After
one week, remove container from refrigerator. Arrange strainers in
levels of increasing fineness over measuring cup. Strain liquid through
strainers, pressing on pulp to express any trapped shrub.

While FITS files off some of the sharper edges of the cranberries, the overall profile has a rounder profile that somehow draws more of the inherent berry flavor out of cranberry and has the mulling spices add some complementary depth and brightness that make this one a bit more prone to leisurely drinking away from the dinner table as it lacks the palette razing aperitif qualities of the Ambrose. Comforting and warm, like the Belle and Sebastian song that is its namesake, it stands in stark contrast to its companion shrub.

In either case, I believe that despite having such markedly different personalities, both of these shrubs do an excellent job of harnessing one of my favorite fruits of the season, finally giving it a seat at the grown up table.

Friday, October 10, 2014

One of the early goals in my shrub making venture was to push the flavor boundaries of what people had been doing with them for years, which is either making a shrub with one type of fruit or in some instances pairing them with an herb or spice.

It feels like my primary approach is to think more as a modern cook might, and that meant thinking of dishes people really enjoy, and then attempting to translate something evocative of those flavors in the shrubs that I was making.

In the case of the original incarnation of Jessica, I went for a sort of peach cobbler or tart flavor by incorporating allspice berries, vanilla, and brown sugar with ripe yellow peaches. On the one hand, this worked pretty well, and if one were going to only mix it with soda or eat it with ice cream, the complexity was quite welcome, as it gave those applications some additional mystery and depth.

Recently, as I re-examined this profile, it seemed a little bit limiting. While all of these flavors were certainly tasty, it was not the sort of package you could use in a wide variety of cocktails without basically hitting a wall in terms of versatility. Hence, the decision to change the shrub to a more simple peach and brown sugar model.

﻿

Despite the fact that the new formula of Jessica does a much better job of highlighting the fruit, there was something about that flavor profile I just couldn't shake. It occurred to me that there was no earthly reason why this peach shrub couldn't still bring those delightful elements together, I would simply have to change the medium.I immediately thought of one of my favorite cocktails that shares some similar flavors with the old version of the shrub, The Lion's Tail.

The Lion's Tail is a bourbon based cocktail that dates back to the Cafe Royal Cocktail Book which came out in England sometime in the late 30's. A fine combination of the aforementioned bourbon with lime juice, allspice liqueur, Angostura bitters, and a tiny bit of simple syrup for balance, The Lion's Tail is one of those cocktails that turns out to be kind of the autumn sweater of cocktails: warm, smooth, and just enough spice to evoke memories of cuddling under blankets and fireplaces and what have you.

These ingredients of the original cocktail are just begging for the addition of some peach in the mix, and there is no question that peaches and bourbon are an excellent match, but that seemed a little too rote. I wanted more vanilla and richness to meld right into the peach and the allspice, and I knew that Zaya 12 year was going to be the base of this cocktail.

Zaya 12 year, is a very vanilla forward rum; an extremely smooth operator that is usually best employed over a large ice cube for an evening sipper, it had those very prominent notes I wanted to get a peach cobbler vibe across, but with a bit of flash and muscle rather than delving into the sickly sweet dessert-in-a-glass route.

The rest of the ingredient list was the same, with the keen addition of a healthy slug of new formula Jessica, a lessening of the lime and allspice liqueur and the complete omission of the simple syrup which had basically been replaced by the concentrated shrub syrup.

As it turned out after a half a bottle worth of attempts, my first attempt was actually the best one, and it's the one I am going to share with you.

In regard to the name, Les Brers is a truncated version of the Allman Brothers Band song "Les Brers in A Minor" which follows the shrub being named Jessica, after another Allman Brothers tune of some note.

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

The world seems to be in the midst of an urban craft renaissance of sorts;
you're as likely to see a young twenty-something knitting on the bus as you
would the 60 year old next to them. Chicken coops are springing up in cities
great and small far from the pastoral environs in which they are normally seen,
and preservation, be it canning, pickling, or fermented foods are all the rage.

And it's that last part where the modern re-emergence of shrubs have
been threatening to make a comeback for the past several years, just bubbling
under the surface as the focus of multiple trend pieces and popping up on some
of the more forward(or temporally backward) thinking bar menus you may have
seen.

Well, if shrubs have been gliding by just under the radar up until
now, with the recent release of Michael Dietsch's debut book, Shrubs: An Old
Fashioned Drink For Modern Times, these tart wonders should prepare for their
close-up, as they are poised to finally bask in the heady adoration of food and
beverage enthusiasts everywhere.

Mr. Dietsch has done an excellent job
of breaking the book into distinct sections, beginning with a well researched
and very entertaining run through the origins of this mysterious drink, charting
its humble beginnings as a flavored soft drink tablet to colonial standby and
beyond. To say any more about the historical section would spoil the fun of
discovering the serendipitous route of shrubs to our modern table for potential
readers, so I'll move on to the more hands-on areas of the book.

A
section of shrub recipes follows, both of the historical variety and more modern
flavors which in my view do an excellent job of illustrating the overall arc of
the world's taste in shrubs, beginning with colonial liquor based offerings that
would have been enjoyed by no less than Benjamin Franklin, all the way to some
ambitious savory offerings that certainly push at the boundaries of the more
general straight up fruit based shrubs that have generally been more common up
until this new modern revival of the drink.

Dietsch's excellent, easy to
follow instructions are perfect for novices and experts alike, striking an
almost conversational tone of an old friend walking you through the process and
having a fun afternoon of it. An approachable tone and expert guidance are a
must when teaching people about subjects in food and beverage when presenting a
concept that is likely to be foreign to most people, and this book nails it.

Additional recipes for other drinks including cocktails and sodas
utilizing the shrubs are also well-written and accompanied by really gorgeous
photography all of which makes the reader thirst for more.

Speaking
as someone who has been really dedicated to this craft for some time, and cares
deeply about seeing this modern revival take hold, the publication of this book
is both timely and vital. As one will see from reading the book, shrubs have had
a long and storied history being the supporting actor in many a bar manual and
cookbook over the past few centuries, but in all those years of flavoring bad
booze, or seeing farmers and their families through long, parched summers of
field work, shrub has quietly been around not drawing as much attention as
flashier fare such as soda or alcohol.

As a cocktail enthusiast, I am
thrilled with this modern era to be spoiled for choice with hundreds of books
about libations to choose from, and all of those had to begin with the first
book written specifically about the craft of bartending.

With the debut
of Michael Dietsch's Shrubs, our craft has finally gotten the book its pedigree
has rightfully earned, and I can only hope that we won't be waiting for another
few centuries for more books of this quality on the subject to be
made.

You can buy Mr. Dietsch's book Shrubs: An Old Fashioned Drink For
Modern Times here.

Monday, October 6, 2014

It may go by a handful of aliases, but when I was first spied someone in a bar dumping a glass of tomato juice in what appeared to be a perfectly good beer, I was horrified.

First of all, as affable as the gritty character drinking it was("Oh, that's really kind of you, but I have an appointment after this, so I'm going to have to decline your polite invitation to 'burn down a J' in the bar parking lot. Thank you, though!", drinking tomato based alcohol drinks in the evening always seemed kind of out of place in the cold, dim lighting of a divier establishment.

Secondly, why would one pollute what appears to be at least a reasonably refreshing beer with a can of Campbell's tomato juice? And furthermore, why would one drink five of these concoctions in a row?

Interestingly, the guy was a fellow Midwestern transplant, so naturally I wondered if this was a regional drink that had escaped me before I moved to Seattle. In the interest of alcoholic anthropology, I sought an expert in the world of Midwestern bar going, my younger sister, then an student at the University of Iowa.

According to her, this was indeed a thing, and it ran from at least Wisconsin to Ohio, but it was definitely viewed as a sort of tailgating restorative, a Budweiser corpse reviver with all of the salt and ethanol that a growing undergrad could need to get back onto their feet to cheer their beloved Hawkeyes(or other Big Ten school) on to victory.

What I did not realize until later, is that our neighbors to the South had been enjoying a similar if not more flavorful with the refreshing additions of lime juice, hot sauce, and some other savory MSG laden wondersauce, be it Maggi, soy, or good old fashioned Worcestershire. This make sense, given that the general blandness of many Mexican lagers make for an excellent blank canvas for a savory, effervescent beer that doesn't feel quite as wrong being drunk before noon.

Which brings me back to the shrub.

There aren't all that many drinks that pop into my mind that use tomato as a main flavor component, and I tackled a new spin on one of them, which led me to wonder if I could bring some of that rich, complex East African spice profile to the beloved red beer.

By heck, I think I may have done just that!

By substituting the very concentrated Elizabeth shrub for your less viscous, run of the mill tomato juice, we bolster the otherwise thin, but extremely clean taste of one's favorite lager with a salvo of savory. The umami punch and inherent heat of this shrub in this drink is so strong, it basically renders the need for additional Worcestershire and hot sauce almost irrelevant.

Which is not to say that you can't put those things in there, because this is your beer, friend! What goes on between a man or a woman and their beer in their kitchen is none of my damn business.

As for the lime: the kid stays in the picture. Lime brings a necessary dose of bright acidity to give this thing some lift.

One area I did think could use an upgrade, however, was the salted rim. I am actually a huge proponent of people using salt in some drinks as it can really highlight or downplay other flavors. In this case, I felt like coupling the salt with one of the myriad of spices that are actually in berbere, would echo those flavors in a much more vibrant and immediate way.

I chose to make a Coriander salt, which approximates a nice balance of citric pucker with the salinity that gives the entire affair a sense of balance. Other good options if you're not a purist might be smoked paprika salt, or cayenne salt. If you're using African cayenne, please be careful; after putting that against your mouth a few times, the Flaming Lips won't just be a band name any more, but a very unpleasant temporary reality.

Ultimately, I've grown to love Micheladas(except the ones with Clamato, thanks) and their simple, but refreshing permutations and customizable nature. Since we're already playing with flavors, what's a continent or two between friends?

Friday, September 26, 2014

Since my return, I have revisited several of the early shrubs once again, not only to finally share the recipes that I wish I had given you in the first place, but also to take a look at some of them in the cold light of day several years on to see if there are things that could be better or different in light of my experiences with the craft in the past several years.

Jessica is a really great example of one that has likely gained the benefit of some good old fashioned hindsight. While I realize that I am known for experimenting with odd flavors in this medium, in the more recent past I have discovered that there is a time and a place for both methods of thinking. Sometimes, you just want to taste the fruit, and having a simple shrub that highlights that is exactly what you want.

In its first incarnation, Jessica was supposed to approximate a peach cobbler by utilizing allspice berries and vanilla along with the earthier undertones of brown sugar. I enjoyed it at the time, but after getting a massive windfall of stellar peaches from an Eastern Washington farm recently, this definitely seemed like a great time to put the less is more practice into action.

Essentially, the base of Jessica is the same: white wine vinegar, brown sugar, and damned ripe peaches. The only difference is the new absence of vanilla and spice.

Is it better? I think so.

The original arrangement definitely evoked exactly the feelings about a peach baked good that I was after, but ultimately with such a great fruit, it occurred to me that this kind of narrowed profile could be cutting me off from other avenues, be it cocktail or cooking.

I am hoping to illustrate later this week just how scaling back to this simplified recipe will allow me to use the shrub in a couple of other ways.

But enough of that. Without further ado, I present the final recipe of Jessica, which I hope you'll enjoy as much as I do.

Sealable glass bottleWash peaches and pat dry. Cut into large chunks and set aside.

Put open non-reactive container on scale and use tare function to zero out the reading. Gently drop peach chunks into container until desired weight is reached. Use tare function again.

Pour or spoon brown sugar into container until desired amount is reached. , and using muddler, grind sugar into peaches until a thick, syrupy mixture forms. Seal container and rest mixture in refrigerator for 2-5 hours.

Remove container from refrigerator and unseal. Place on scale, once again using tare function. Add white wine vinegar to container. Reseal, and place back into refrigerator. Rest jar one week.

After one week, remove container from refrigerator. Arrange strainers in levels of increasing fineness over measuring cup. Strain liquid through strainers, pressing on pulp to express any trapped shrub.

Place funnel in bottle, and situate tea strainer in funnel opening. Pour strained shrub through tea strainer into bottle, and seal bottle.

Thursday, September 18, 2014

I always hate to do these placeholder posts, but I also hate leaving people hanging when they might be expecting content, even if it's usually on a weekly basis.

Things have been really busy lately, and part of the reason there have been so few posts lately is that I am currently waiting on a couple of batches of shrub that I think will be really good and should hopefully lead to some good posts in the next week or two which will hopefully include multiple cocktails and another cooking post, which I am really excited to do more of.

In any instance, my apologies for the long delays, and I promise neither I, nor the blog have vanished into the ether again.

In the meantime, as always, I urge readers to leave comments to let me know if there is anything you'd like to see covered or topics you'd be interested in learning more about. Or anything you like or don't like. I love your feedback!

My ultimate goal here is to be a valuable resource for those with an interest in the craft, and I want to do everything I can to spread the word and help as many people embrace this beverage.

In the meantime, keep an eye on this space, and I will be back soon with some interesting stuff.

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

When I say "cocktails with tomato," what is the first phrase that pops into your head?

If you said "Bloody Mary," I'm not surprised.

Given the lack of tomato based cocktails, we are likely hardwired to immediately envision vodka and the Bloody Mary. And why wouldn't we? Other than the mimosa, it's one of the most well known staples of the morning drinking set, and it at least flirts with the idea of mitigating the otherwise deleterious effects of a tall, salt forward glass of "morning sunshine" by throwing a pretty hefty dose of lycopene and vitamin C at you.

Now, I've had some decent Bloodies in my day, and when prepared in a thoughtful, classic manner, they can be an absolute delight if one is enmeshed in that nebulous, but socially acceptable ocassion to drink before noon known as brunch. The problem is, these days Bloody Mary preparation is anything but.

I don't want to go all Embury or anything, but I will say this: rather than a simple blend of savory and tangy flavors, the Bloody Mary has essentially become a sort of farcical wonderland in which otherwise sane people decide to turn their cocktail into either some kind of Dada masterpiece or an opportunity to skewer as many rich, fatty, or outlandish items as they can with a stick, then dropping it into the glass with wild abandon, trying to one-up the guy down the street who tried to stuff a whole braised pork belly in a glass of tomato juice and pepper vodka in the name of "whimsy."

As a countermeasure to this madness, I would like to offer a a different take on this old chestnut that I think not only would work as a brunch drink, but could also reasonably bring a tomato cocktail to a respectable pre-prandial after 5 kind of an affair.

Using a nice smooth bourbon, such as Buffalo Trace as a base, I added a healthy dose of the Elizabeth shrub from last week, and temper it with a small amount of lemon juice for some freshness and levity, and tie the whole thing together with celery bitters, which calls to mind the ubiquitous Bloody Mary stalk that comes to one's mind when they think of the Bloody Mary of old.

That's it.

No bacon, no salad bar, no carefully "house curated Bloody Mary mix", not even Worcerstershire.

The funny thing is, once I tasted this I didn't miss it at all. The berbere, jam packed full of all the umami you could ever want when paired with tomatoes, does all of the heavy lifting in the seasoning department. It is paradoxically so simple but so complex all at the same time, you'll wonder if you've just performed a magic trick. The answer is probably yes, because you've likely made it disappear in a couple of gulps.

A stunning display piece or mixological blank canvas, it is not, but when you want the great tastes of tomato and booze to taste great together, and you want it with a minimum of fussy nonsense, pull one of these together and enjoy.

As for the name of this cocktail, it ties into the name of the shrub which itself is named after Elizabeth Bathory, who supposedly bathed in the blood of a parade of nameless victims in efforts to keep herself youthful. As there were no trials before these young unfortunates were allegedly killed, the first thing that sprang to mind of course was Exsanguination Without Representation.

Sunday, August 24, 2014

Hello, welcome to my first nervous foray into the monthly blog party known as Mixology Monday, in which a kind fellow drinks blogger plays willing host to a house full of cocktail creatives and supplies a theme for those folks to riff off of.

After narrowly missing the window for last month's Smash theme, I vowed to jump into August's theme with wild abandon. As it happens, our host this month is Rated R Cocktails with an intriguing theme: coconuts.

As some of my old readers might recall, my last adventure with coconut as a shrub ingredient was equal parts amusing and mediocre, so rather than digging that old skeleton out of the closet, I thought I should perhaps think outside the box.

While coconut immediately lends itself to more traditional uses in cocktails, I knew it would be a challenge to work shrub in somehow. I was stuck until my brilliant wife finally screwed in the light bulb that had been flickering rather dimly over my head.

"Since your pineapple shrub is mostly made up of coconut vinegar, wouldn't that count?"

Why, yes. Yes, it would.

The brand of coconut vinegar that I use is made from the sap of coconut trees, which is aged until it ferments and eventually becomes vinegar over nearly a year's time. What can seem particularly misleading about this type of coconut vinegar is that it smells and tastes almost nothing like coconut, in fact taking on a slightly gamey, fermented note reminiscent of the hogo of some funkier rums.

When mixed with pineapple, habenero and turbinado sugar, the resulting shrub is spicy, sharp, and effectively has an almost butterscotch like funk to it. Here's how to make it.

Pour
white wine vinegar into Pyrex measuring cup and microwave until hot but
not boiling. Gently immerse hot peppers into hot vinegar and cover with
lid, plate, cling wrap or other means of holding in heat.

Agitate
gently, and check every 15-20 minutes to see if desired spice level has
been reached. Remove peppers and any seeds that may have become loosened
during steeping process. Set steeped vinegar aside.

Remove
top, bottom, and outer skin of pineapple, slicing into rough chunks,
until there are 16 ounces of pineapple chunks. You may macerate the
pineapple with 12 ounces of Sugar In The Raw by either placing pineapple
and sugar in the jar you will be making shrub in and muddling or using
immersion blender until a syrupy pulp forms, or alternatively blending
pineapple and raw sugar in Vita-Mix and pouring blended results into the
glass jar. In either case, put jar of pineapple/sugar mixture into
refrigerator for at least 1 hour, or up to 5.

Remove
jar from refrigerator and add both coconut and chile infused white wine
vinegar to pineapple/sugar mixture. Agitate vigorously and place back
in refrigerator for 1 week.

At
the end of one week, place two strainers over a large Pyrex measuring
cup. Carefully pour contents from the jar into the strainer,
occasionally pausing to press on solids to squeeze out excess liquid.
Discard solids.

To
bottle, situate tea strainer in funnel, and gently pour shrub through
tea strainer into clean bottle. Refrigerate. Shrub should keep bottled
in refrigerator for at least six months and likely up to 1 year or more.

Depending on fruit, may yield 16-24 ounces of shrub.

In any event, it got me thinking about one of the request in this month's MxMo post in which the host mentioned it might be nice to see something done in the pre-prohibition mold.

I examined the DNA of two well known-ish drinks from drinking's Golden Age that share pineapple juice in common, and figured I would use my Pineapple/Coconut Vinegar shrub to split the difference.

Borrowing the rye and dry vermouth elements from The Algonquin, and maraschino liqueur from the Mary Pickford and a couple of dashes of Regan's Orange bitters for good measure, may I present: The Bankhead, named for actress and Algonquin Round Table member Taullulah Bankhead.

The Bankhead

1.75 oz rye whiskey(I used Bulleit)

.75 oz Don Whoa!(see above)

.5 oz dry vermouth

.25 oz maraschino liqueur(Luxardo)

2 dashes orange bitters(Regan's No. 6)

Combine ingredients in mixing glass or tin, stir with ice,

Strain, up, into cocktail glass.

The Bankhead seems to get around one of the complaints I often hear about The Algonquin, which is that it is generally too dry and not particularly worth doing again. However, The Bankhead incorporates this shrub and its wild, rich tangle of sweetness, subtle heat from the pepper, and undefinable but manageable gaminess from the coconut vinegar, which melds very well with the rye and builds a bridge that closes the gap between it and the herbaceous notes of the dry vermouth.

I guess from a more modern standpoint, one might argue this is kind of like a Bensonhurst with a high dose of pineapple shrub in place of Cynar.

As tasty as that is, I kind of feel like I owe everyone something with a more traditional coconut ingredient: coconut milk.

While my first reaction was to think of Pineapples and Coconuts dancing in a conga line or something of the sort, I thought if I am already doing cocktails with shrubs, I had better go for broke and do something really, really crazy. Cacao nib balsamic shrub, anyone?

Before we get to the cocktail, we need to make this shrub, which I have nicknamed Time's Arrow.

If you are a fan of dark chocolate, you're going to dig this. The syrupy body and pronounced sharpness of balsamic vinegar coupled with unsweetened cacao nibs give the impression of a very dark high percentage cacao chocolate bar, just barely sweetened with earthy turbinado sugar and a bit of vanilla bean.

Now that you have cacao nib shrub, let's make this cocktail, which I call Eddington On The Beach.

After a few failed attempts with other base spirits, it became apparent that rum was the spirit for the job. Aged rum was a decent choice, but wasn't really clicking with the cacao shrub/coconut milk combination. I needed heavier body, and there are few heavier than our friend Cruzan Black Strap Rum. I needed a couple of other flavors to round things out, so I bought in Amer Picon which has worked well with this cacao nib shrub before matching it in both body and it's complementary orange flavor which would work with both chocolate and coconut. Rounding the whole thing out was a little bit of turbinado simple syrup. Like so:

Entropic Thunder

2 oz Cruzan Blackstrap Rum

.5 oz Amer Picon

.5 oz Time's Arrow(cacao shrub, see above)

.5 oz turbinado simple syrup

.25 oz coconut milk

Combine ingredients in mixing tin, shake without ice, then with.

Strain into Old Fashioned glass over rocks

The result was quite nice in a cocktail geek meets tropical dessert drink kind of way. The light hand with the coconut milk got the flavor across without smoothing off the edges of the spirits to the point they were flat, while also blending with the cacao nib shrub and the pitch black rum in a way that reminded me of a Mounds bar if it had a pack of Lucky Strikes rolled up in its wrapper. It was sweet, but not cloying. Smooth, without being boring. One could jazz it up even further if one were inclined with a little bit of Mole bitters or some such thing.

Hell, if you really want to go full vacation mode, you could blend the thing with ice and really go crazy. That said, I think I would recommend the above recipe for weeknights and less whimsical moments.

As for the name, it is a nod to the phrase Tropic Thunder and a nod to Time's Arrow itself.

I'd like to extend my thanks once more to JFL for hosting this crazy coconut themed shindig and letting me do my inaugural MxMo post on such an interesting and fun topic.

Monday, August 18, 2014

Apologies for the long delay between posts; I was on holiday in Oregon and didn't have much access to do much in the way of shrub related activities for the past week or so.

To make up for this terrible lapse, this week I wanted to revisit one of the more unusual shrubs that I've done, and that was Elizabeth, an heirloom tomato and berbere shrub I did a couple of years back. When I say unusual, I mean to say that unlike most of the jammier, fruit and herb based options, Elizabeth had the distinction of being the first shrub that I ever did that leaned savory rather than sweet. I won't bore you with all the fine details again in this post, but if you want to re-read the original or haven't read it before, you can do so here.

If one can get past Elizabeth's ruddy, not so glamorous looks, I think the shrub's savory nature really lends itself to some really interesting possibilities outside of being enjoyed by itself; I mean, let's face it, I don't foresee people sitting around sipping on this one with soda they way they might with a strawberry or ginger shrub, so it's likely going to be the backbone of some other delicious and quaffable application.

In regard to those applications, I am hoping to share some of those possibilities with you shortly, beginning with an interesting cocktail that goes its own way, straying adventurously from the path of the world's well-worn vodka fueled brunch staple.

In the meantime, you'll need to know how to make this delightful megaton payload of umami greatness before Heirloom Tomato season is over, so without further ado, here you are:

Sealable glass bottleWash tomatoes and pat dry. Cut into large chunks and set aside.

Put open non-reactive container on scale and use tare function to zero out the reading. Gently drop tomato chunks into container until desired weight is reached. Use tare function again.

Pour or spoon brown sugar into container until desired amount is reached. Add ground berbere, and using muddler, grind sugar into tomato until a thick, syrupy mixture forms. Seal container and rest mixture in refrigerator for 2-5 hours.

Remove container from refrigerator and unseal. Place on scale, once again using tare function. Add appropriate amount of white wine vinegar and apple cider vinegar to container. Reseal, and place back into refrigerator. Rest jar one week.

After one week, remove container from refrigerator. Arrange strainers in levels of increasing fineness over measuring cup. Strain liquid through strainers, pressing on pulp to express any trapped shrub.

Place funnel in bottle, and situate tea strainer in funnel opening. Pour strained shrub through tea strainer into bottle, and seal bottle.

Monday, August 4, 2014

One of the most rewarding things about making shrub is finding creative ways to use it outside of the traditional combination of shrub and club soda. If you're lucky, some of them pair quite well with tonic as well as does a grapefruit shrub, or our last shrub, Reverend Powell.

Though Reverend Powell mixed with tonic gives one the faint echo of a gin and tonic, I felt that it should really have the opportunity to shine in a more bibulous manner, so I set off in search of a cocktail that would let this shrub of unusual flavor really strut its stuff.

The search lasted a bit longer than I expected. I first thought that maybe it would be nice to do more of a shim, which is another name for a low proof cocktail that allows one to get down with their bad self while still remaining upright. This line of curiosity led to experiments with Gentian liqueurs like Bitterman's Amer Sauvage, and aromatized wines like dry vermouth, and even a brief flirtation with the likes of Campari. Ultimately, there was some promise with the Amer Sauvage and the red currant taking on as sort of excellent deeply ripe authentic cranberry note; while this was interesting ground I'd like to till in the future, it just wasn't coming together for this cocktail.

I had to face the facts: this cocktail was likely going to need a base spirit to be successful. As everyone knows, in today's market there are so many possibilities around, it's hard to even know where to begin. Looking at the basics, I began to whittle down the list.

My big fear was that the juniper notes in the shrub would clash with anything that didn't have juniper notes in it already(gin) or something fairly broad and neutral in flavor(vodka). I just did a drink with gin, and figured I would do another if nothing else worked, and I didn't have any vodka.

The next logical step was whiskey. Bourbon, it turned out, was a bit too smooth and flaccid to stand up to the very pronounced fruit flavor of the shrub. When I pulled out the rye, however...oh yes, now we were cooking with gas.

A generous slug of a big rye, in this case the 90 proof Bulleit variety, with its spicier character and extra muscle, was able to keep the sweetness of the shrub in in check without devolving into insipid juicebox territory. Meanwhile, the currant flavors in the shrub offered a bright, fruity finish that segued effortlessly out of the strong flavors of the whiskey.

Still, it was missing something; there needed to be another note not to balance the sweetness of the shrub, but something to bring its high notes a little closer to Earth. I know that sherry and shrub favor each other in general, so a dry, nutty Amontillado seemed like a good plan. To brighten things up and tie everything together, a couple of dashes of Regan's No. 6 Orange Bitters were tipped in.

All in all, I like this one quite a bit. In the past I have found that it's not always easy to reconcile brown liquors with brighter fruit flavors that aren't particularly autumnal such as pear and apple. The combination of the brawny rye with bright fruit is grounded by a subtle savoriness in the sherry, with the orange bitters lending just a hint of citrus to complete the package. It is, dare I say, a nice whiskey drink for a summer day.

As to the name, as the name of the shrub in this cocktail is Reverend Powell from The Night of The Hunter, the cocktail is named after its director, English actor, Charles Laughton. Laughton appeared in a great deal of classic films including I, Claudius, The Big Clock, and Spartacus to name a few.

Despite his long list of acting credits, Laughton only directed the one film, but given the long standing hold that it's had on countless audiences over the years, he sure as hell looks to have made it count.

Friday, August 1, 2014

After people get over the initial shock of the concept of drinking vinegar for recreational purposes, you begin to see the wheels turn as you list off all of the various flavors of shrub one can make. The fields of strawberries dancing in one's head, the cascade of crisp, sweet raspberries, or the juicy inspiration of summer at the mention of ripe peaches. The tart bracing delights of red currants...

[Insert Record Scratch Here]

So...yeah, if summer fruit had a social strata, red currants would clearly be one of the thoughtful outcasts who reads Sartre and doesn't like to talk much. They take a lot more effort to work with, but in the end, they are as bright and sharp as other berries, but with a decided air of mystery and subtlety that his more popular counterparts seem to lack ever so slightly.

Red Currants are so under the radar, I am frankly overjoyed and excited every time I run across them at all. The first time I made this particular shrub was probably in 2011 when I had a chance encounter with them wrapped up in their snug cellophane cartons in a grocery store. I had never had anything particularly currant related at the time other than perhaps some creme de cassis in something and maybe a cassis lambic years and years ago. I thought after my brief dalliance with this elusive berry that I would treasure our time together fondly and move on.

Richter's Red Currants

That was until a few weeks ago I happened to be in the same grocery and to my surprise, I stumbled across an entire display of offerings from Richters, the same farm that I had used last time. There were gooseberries and red currants both, and though the thought of experimenting with gooseberries was an exciting one, I knew I had to have another go at red currant shrub.

While making this shrub doesn't register a particularly high degree of difficulty, be warned that when I mentioned them being a lot more effort to work with, I wasn't kidding.

As you can see, red currants are tiny. I mean, really tiny. It takes, as Bertie Wooster might have said, a "goodish" amount of them to make a reasonable quantity of shrub. Paired with the amount of time it takes to remove the tiny stems that are attached to them, it seems like more trouble than its worth, but trust me, when you see the end results, you won't feel that way.

As with any fruit for shrub, grab a colander and wash it thoroughly. Red currants are the sensitive, brooding sort, so be gentle; these guys could become pulp in your fingers when too much rough pressure is applied.

Washing The Currants

The next step is to get a clean and sterilized non-reactive container. As usual, I am using one of my trusty bale jars which I put on the scale before using the scale's tare function to zero out the weight. This will make it a lot easier to portion out and get the correct weight of the currants.

With all of this in place, it's time to get the currants in the jar. Unfortunately, it's not quite as easy as that, since there are a lot of tiny stems and things you have to pull off of these tiny little berries. I find that this process is not quite as excruciating as when one is making a shrub with pie cherries, but it's still mildly irritating.

On the bright side, you don't have to pit anything, so there's that.

The Jar and the Colander(Not the title of a new children's book)

After weighing the appropriate amount of currants into the jar, it's time to gather the sugar. I chose white sugar for this one because I wanted a clean, unencumbered sweetness. I think anything earthier would overpower these guys, and given their subtle flavor, it would be extremely easy to do.

Given the fact I like using these shrubs as soda syrups, I thought juniper would bring another level of depth and interest to it as a non-alcoholic beverage. For the unfamiliar, juniper is technically a seed cone from pine trees with a potent, resinous texture even when dried, and a sharp, piney, woodsy flavor. Most recognizable as the main flavor element in gin, it is a bold and unapologetic spice that works beautifully in concert with other earthy ingredients in small quantities.

﻿

A Little Dab Will Do Ya

﻿

As I often look to the culinary world for inspiration, it occurred to me that both red currants and juniper are frequently used in the preparation of game meats which further solidified my confidence in this pairing.One cautionary note, however: it's really important to be judicious with the amount you add, unless you enjoy drinking a delightful berry soda that has been filtered through pine cones.

Currants and Sugar in Repose

Once the sugar and juniper are measured into the jar, I begin to muddle. Muddling is usually one of my favorite parts of this endeavor. One the one hand, I enjoy the subtle transition from two materials into one, the melding of ingredients, and the beautiful stratification of colors. On the other hand, it's really therapeutic to wield a giant piece of wood and smash fruit to bits, letting you live out those long dormant childhood fantasies of impersonating Gallagher's act in your own home.

The Beauty of Wholesome, Unsullied Ingredients

The Beauty of Wholesome, Sullied Ingredients

After that enjoyable endeavour, one should have a viscous mass of fruit and syrup. The jar is closed up and put in the refrigerator to rest for a few hours, where the sugar should continue to pull the juice of the crushed fruit. Anywhere from two to five should do it, but if you accidentally forget overnight, it certainly will not hurt the shrub in any way.

A Viscous Mass of Fruit and Syrup

After its brief respite in the chilled confines of your fridge, the vinegar goes in. I chose white wine vinegar for this as it has a mild, but very present acidity to balance the heavier dose of white sugar I used to balance the tart berries. Shrubs are always a bit of a balancing act, and it can be especially tricky in cases where you want to offset tartness in certain fruits such as this one. It's also a bit more neutral in taste than other wine vinegars, so it lets the other ingredients take control without being too present as a red wine vinegar or a balsamic would be.

After agitating the mixture, it goes back into the fridge for a week. After that, it's filtered three times, and then bottled.

After all of this, the real question is of course, "What is the shrub like?"

The unsatisfying, but brief answer is, "It's great!"

In all sincerity, unless you have currants growing on your property, this can be a slightly more expensive project as it takes a few cartons to make a reasonable amount of shrub. Putting aside price for the time being, I really love this one.

The best way I can describe it is to say that it is reminiscent of a non-alcoholic gin mixed with sweet and tart berries, with touches of mild acidity creeping around the outside. It doesn't seem to have as much natural pectin as say raspberries or strawberries, so the mouthfeel is not exceedingly syrup like despite its sugar content.

In temperance mode, this thing is an outright gem, especially when mixed with a better quality tonic water like Q or Fever Tree as it makes you feel like you're drinking a fruity G & T, but without the eventual impairment, and when the weather is warm, G & T's are one of my favorite warm weather coping mechanisms. Don't like tonic? No problem, soda water is also excellent, as it slips into more of an adult soda mode. Either way, you just can't lose.

In regard to cocktails, there are some definite possibilities across the board. Vodka and gin are no brainers, as the juniper will either come through solo against the cold, stark canvas that vodka offers, and it will reinforce the juniper notes already in most gins.

As I will demonstrate in a day or two in the next installment of The Hard Stuff, even a muscular whiskey enjoys its company when arranged in the proper context.

As for the name, this shrub's moniker was a bit of a leap through word association. As red currant and juniper are both used in dishes involving game meats, I thought of hunters, which in turn made me think of the film Night of the Hunter.

From there, it wasn't much of a hop to the foreboding and mysterious Robert Mitchum character, Reverend Powell, the creepy and effective antagonist of the film. For those who have never seen it but are familiar with "LOVE" and "HATE" tattoos on knuckles, or any pop cultural references to said knuckles, Mitchum's Powell had them first and utilized them best. As far as anti-heroes and creeps go, Robert Mitchum is tops in my book, and his Harry Powell stands tall as both a cultural icon and one evil so and so.

So while red currants and juniper are both kind of like two misunderstood loners of the fruit and spice worlds, respectively. It seems lucky, but not so surprising perhaps, that in a shrub like this they have become fast and inseparable friends.

Put non-reactive container on scale and use tare function to zero out the reading. Pour or spoon red currants into container until desired weight is reached. Use tare function again.

Pour or spoon white sugar into container until desired amount is reached. Add ground juniper, and using muddler, grind sugar into fruit until a thick, syrupy mixture forms. Seal container and rest mixture in refrigerator for 2-5 hours.

Remove container from refrigerator and unseal. Place on scale, once again using tare function. Add appropriate amount of white wine vinegar to container. Reseal, and place back into refrigerator. Rest jar one week.

After one week, remove container from refrigerator. Arrange strainers in levels of increasing fineness over measuring cup. Strain liquid through strainers, pressing on pulp to express any trapped shrub.

Place funnel in bottle, and situate tea strainer in funnel opening. Pour strained shrub through tea strainer into bottle, and seal bottle.

Monday, July 28, 2014

First of all, my apologies for the lack of posts last week, things have been a bit crazier around here for some reason, and my day job has distracted me from my blogging duties, but I am back and I have what I hope will be some fun content for you this week.

I can't think of anything more fun that starting the week with a cocktail, so I would like to introduce you to a new segment/column on the blog that is tentatively being called "The Hard Stuff," in which the shrubs that we make are incorporated in decidedly non-temperance friendly ways.

As some of you may know, the use of our delicious drinking vinegars began quite a while ago in this country, notably to mask the flavor of the rotgut rum that was being pumped out up and down the Eastern seaboard. Times, as well as the quality of distillation methods, have changed; rather than quell the more distasteful elements of our liquor in an attempt to stomach it in our collective attempts at inebriation, we now look to shrub as a shelf stable modifier that can add not only interesting flavors both in and out of season, but a pleasant acidity that could potentially take the place of a lemon or lime balancing the equation in your tin.

As I mentioned in my last post, I was looking for a new name for the plain raspberry shrub that I make, and I got some great suggestions. Ultimately, I went in a more mythological direction, naming the shrub Ida.

While this may seem like an unusual name, there is connection in the Greek myths in which a woman named Ida was picking berries for the infant Zeus(who was being hidden from his jerk of of a dad Cronus, who would have eaten him if given half a chance, but I digress...) when she pricked her finger staining white raspberries red, which is why raspberries have been that color ever since. If you're more of an astronomy buff, it's also the name of Jupiter's third moon. Either way, I dig it.

Keeping with this theme, I found that the cave Zeus was being hidden in was in a mountain called Mt. Ida, and it's next to a place called the Amari Valley, and it started me thinking about bitter liqueurs that would go well with raspberry; I knew that whatever I picked, there would need to be a flavorful, but fairly unobtrusive set of ingredients to slot in with these ingredients.

First things first: base spirit: Gin.

First and foremost, gin is one of my favorite base spirits and if you use a milder, more citrus forward gin like Plymouth, it can act as a really broad canvas to display a lot of other interesting flavors without clashing. Additionally, gin and raspberry have proven to have historically teamed up with excellent effects in drinks such as the Clover Club and the Albermarle Fizz. So gin was in.

My second pick was Aperol. To those who aren't familiar with it, Aperol is mild bitter liqueur; it's slightly bitter, only 11 percent alcohol by volume, and is a very exciting, but to some, slightly disturbing, hazard cone orange color. It's a little bitter, but not overly so and it seemed like a good balance to the jammy, sweet raspberry shrub.

Since it's summer, my mind turns to modifiers such as fortified and aromatized wines to sort of pad out the bolder flavors of the base and in this case, the slightly bitter liqueur. Nothing says summer gin to me in this regard quite as well as Lillet Blanc. Lillet is an aperitif wine that is a summer classic that can be enjoyed alone, but whose bright, slightly fruity nature works as a fantastic lengthening buffer here.

Finally, what would a shrub cocktail be without shrub? In this case, we are using the Ida from a couple of weeks ago. While this shrub is a bit sweeter and thicker due to the natural pectin in raspberries, it still has slight hints of sharpness from the naturally tart nature of raspberries and the white wine vinegar. This very mild acid takes the place of what one might have used citrus juice for.

I personally think this cocktail worked out best when it was stirred. Shaking was fine, but it did tend to make it seem a little cloudier to me. Stirring kept the lovely jewel tones and with a minimum of dilution, finally finished with an orange twist, which I dropped right into the glass.

But how does it taste?

Amalthea is kind of tricky to describe; the overall flavor is slightly fruity, with hints of mild bitterness, but due to the use of the Plymouth gin and the slightly bumped up amount of it, it makes the whole thing relatively dry and quite bracing without turning your tongue to sandpaper.

All in all, I would say it is an enjoyable little tipple, and one I hope you'll enjoy in these waning days of summer.

Combine all ingredients in a mixing glass or cocktail shaker, and add ice. Stir until glass or tin frosts, strain into cocktail glass. Cut strip of orange peel and twist over the drink, rubbing peel over rim. Drop peel into the glass.